Sheathed Sword
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Like his father, Anduin had been drawn into the Nexus. Like his father, Anduin wielded the sword named Shalamayne. Like his father, Anduin would fight in the battles of the Realm Lords. But unlike his father, Anduin would not draw his sword in battle unless absolutely necessary...


**Sheathed Sword**

It was strange, seeing Shalamayne held by Anduin, when he held the same sword himself.

Granted, the entire Nexus was strange, and by the Light, he'd seen strange things on Azeroth. Strange creatures from the stars. Angels from realms beyond, along with demons of realms below. Men and women from a world where technology was as common as magic. And that was nothing compared to the insanity of the Nexus itself. Of lords and ladies waging constant battle, turning their world, all worlds, into one of war, where conflict was never-ending and…

…alright, maybe it _was _like Azeroth. But still, it wasn't home. Varian Wrynn knew it never would be. He had never shied away from conflict, but he had always fought for a purpose after becoming king. For peace, for honour, for the Alliance. At best, the Realm Lords fought for pride, but it was their own pride and nothing more. At worst…he could not even begin to guess of the darkness that lay within their souls. Here in the Nexus, conflict was a constant. Here, war was waged for its own sake. At first, a part of him had revelled in the constant carnage, as glories unnumbered were bequeathed on him for his efforts, but over time, it had soured. And not until his son came here, mending and breaking his heart at the same time, had his mind changed.

And still it was strange, seeing Anduin hold the blade that had once been his. And seeing the look on his son's face, Anduin was just as confused as he was.

"Is this even possible?" Anduin asked.

"Clearly," Varian said.

Anduin unsheathed his blade and gestured to his father. With a nod, Varian did the same. The two blades shone bright, reminiscent of Shalla'tor and Ellemayne of old.

"I've seen you fight father," Anduin said. "One sword, two swords, sword and shield."

"One has to be versatile here."

"Does one? My understanding is that the Realm Lords each have a role in mind for us to play, and that there's only so much freedom we have in diverting from it."

Varian knew what Anduin was getting at, but being a father concerned with his son's wellbeing, said, "we are still free to choose our course in battle."

"Yes father, but we battle all the same. The one known as Abathur will always lurk in the shadows, and will never have luck on the frontlines. The Vikings will never achieve true glory, for they are ever ordered to battle minions. And that is to say nothing of Stitches, whose role is ever to soak up damage."

Varian smirked. "You feel sorry for an abomination?"

"I feel sorry for anyone stuck here," Anduin said. "Well, except Li-Li. She seems to enjoy it."

"Ah yes, the panda girl. I heard that you and she-"

"Shall we compare our swords?" Anduin asked.

Varian nodded. "Of course." He pointed his sword upwards, as did Anduin. Shalamayne met Shalamayne, each Shalamayne held by a Wrynn. From Varian's eye, he could see no distinction between the two of them. The iron touched each other. A 'shring' sound was made. But otherwise…

"Nothing," Anduin said.

"Nothing," Varian agreed.

Anduin sighed and sheathed his sword. "Almost a shame. The one named Tracer told me that if no objects from different times touched, it would trigger a paradox and destroy the space-time continuum."

Varian stared at him.

"Bad stuff would happen."

"And…you wanted to destroy the…thing?"

Anduin shrugged. "I would destroy much of this world if I could make it better."

Varian frowned.

"Shall we father? The war calls."

He nodded and followed Anduin to the portal, walking through the cold, stone corridors of the Storm Fortress. On the other side lay Alterac Valley, or at least a simulacrum of it. It wasn't the valley of his world that he knew, but a valley from another world that had been twisted and compressed. He had fought here before, sometimes on the side of Vandal, other times on the side of Drek'Thar. All those times, the only difference was that fighting for the former was easier than fighting for the latter, because as mindless as their servants were, it was easier for him to slaughter orcs and trolls than humans and dwarves. Varian clutched Shalamayne at his side and looked at his son as he walked ahead.

Anduin had changed. Anduin had been vague on how, when, and why he had arrived at this place exactly, but had only told him that the Legion had been defeated, that his reign had been long and prosperous, and that Azeroth and the Alliance stood. He had also said that his beard had been long when death had taken him, but for reasons neither of them could explain, he had been reverted to a youth of eighteen. It appeared that the Realm Lords requested not only champions from across space and time, they wanted champions in what they deemed their "ideal forms." Diablo, for instance, was stuck in but one of his many forms lest he offer tribute in gems and shards to earn the right to be the Prime Evil. Kerrigan, whose form had shifted just as many times, had been denied the power of the xel'naga (creatures analogous to the titans as far as Varian understood). He was in the form he had when he had perished at the Broken Shore, but now, he was looking at a boy, who had grown up to be a man, and who had lived and ruled longer than he had.

Was that cruel or kind, he wondered? And did those concepts have any meaning in the Nexus?

"Are you bothered, oh king?"

They reached the portal where the rest of the champions were waiting for them. The question had come from the one named Azmodan, a demon as foul as any of the Legion.

"Bothered by your presence, yes."

"Bold words from one such as yourself." He let out a hiss and turned aside, leaving Varian to look at the other warriors. The one of steel and sword called Genji, who gave him a nod. The one of blade and cloak named Zeratul, who stood there in silence. It occurred to Varian that apart from Azmodan, all of them had swords. But of those swords, all of them except Anduin were unsheathed.

"Anduin."

His son looked at him. "Yes father?"

Varian gestured to him.

"I don't understand."

"Your sword," Varian said.

"My sword?"

"You have not taken it out."

"Have I not?" He chuckled. "I suppose I haven't."

The portal crashed and crackled. They would be leaving this place soon.

"My role is to heal father," Anduin said. "Your role is to fight."

"But your sword-"

"Will be used when I deem it necessary."

"When you…Anduin, a moment." Varian beckoned him come into the corner.

"The father and the son, ever bonding," Azmodan whispered. "Is there lust in your heart, oh king? Or perverted pride, that the fruit of your loins has surpassed you?"

Varian ignored him. Anduin didn't even look at Azmodan as his father led him aside.

"What is this father?"

But he was looking at the former king of Stormwind.

"Anduin…is there something wrong?"

At his father.

"Wrong?" Anduin asked. "Why, what could possibly be wrong?"

"In this place? More than you could imagine," Varian said. He put his arms on his son's shoulders. "Anduin, you-"

"I am your son, and though I not look it, I am your elder," Anduin said. He pried his father's hands off him. "I am well past the need for comfort."

Varian remained silent. His face might have given away his hurt, but either way, Anduin put a hand on Varian's shoulder.

"And I appreciate your concern father," he said. "While this place does my heart no good, that I see you here, it is of some consolation."

"Some?" Varian asked.

"Would you be consigned to an eternity of bloodshed father?"

Varian shrugged. "I could imagine worse."

"Don't sell yourself short father. You…" Anduin took a breath. "You taught me once that it was no shame to fight, provided that the course was just. It was a lesson I learnt in time to save my world. To save myself."

"As you taught me that peace was a goal to aspire to."

"I did," Anduin said. He lowered his head in reverence, before meeting his father's eyes. "And that is why I will not draw my sword unless I have to."

"Anduin?"

"Not for the Realm Lords. Not for their games," Anduin said. "I have tried defiance, and suffered. I have tried insurgency, and been laughed at. I have tried many things, and each has fallen against the wall that is named eternity. So…I will not draw my sword father except in direst need. I will use the Light to heal. I will keep warriors like you, assassins like them (he nodded at Genji and Zeratul) and creatures like him (he nodded at Azmodan with a look of disgust on his face) in battle. But I will do so in a manner that allows the Realm Lords to understand the truth of my heart. I will not fight their battles without resistance. And they will know that they will never fully control me."

"Anduin…"

"Do not urge caution father."

"No, I…" Varian smiled, and put a hand on Anduin's shoulder. "More than anything, I am proud."

Anduin smiled. The portal crashed and opened.

"Shall we, father?" Anduin asked.

Varian nodded. "After you, my son."

With scarce a word between them, the two Wrynns departed. To battle. To war. To bloodshed.

Such was the way of the Nexus.

* * *

_A/N_

_Something that made me blink (metaphorically) in regards to Anduin was that he never seems to use his sword in _Heroes of the Storm_. Like, he uses it when casting abilities, but never uses it as a base weapon. I mean, it's a bit weird, but I guess kind of befitting of his character. But that aside, am I the only one who thought "wait, if Varian's playable, and Anduin's playable, does that mean there's two versions of Shalamayne within the Nexus?"_

_Guess so. Drabbled this up as a result._


End file.
